QLFC Season 7
by Viladis
Summary: This is dedicated solely to a series of prompts provided by Qudditch League Fanfiction Competition (QLFC) for season 7. I write for Kenmare Kestrels as Beater 2. Various characters will be featured through the series.
1. Round 1

A/N: Thank you to Roseusvortex for the great beta work!

Round 1 Scenario: "Hell's Grannies". Best moment? When the grannies start graffitiing "Make tea, not love" on the walls. **Write about someone who looks innocent but is evil on the inside. (Tom Riddle is not allowed for this prompt)**

Prompt: Cream (colour)

Setting: During the time the Marauders were still students in Hogwarts.

Warning: This is my first time writing the Marauders.

* * *

He crept as quietly as he could across the floor until he stopped to loom over a snoring black-haired boy. He smiled thinly before he squatted and searched around the bed for a brown bag. Gingerly, he pulled on the zip to open the bag. Every couple of seconds, he would pause to shudder, and cringe and wince at the sound that seemed to echo loudly in the bedroom. Finally, the gap was large enough for him to slip a soft cream-coloured cloth, that he had folded neatly into the size of his palm, into the bag. Biting his bottom lip, he struggled to swallow his laughter as he returned the bag to where he found it and in its original state. He looked back at the snoring boy and vowed softly, "You won't even know what hit you, James."

Quickly, he tiptoed to his bed, coughed to hide his laughter and closed his eyes with a wide smile. Now, all he had to do were to remain patient and wait until the end of James' detention, trust in the James' predictable behavior, and let nature do its work. After all, revenge was best served cold.

* * *

It was almost the end of another hectic day when a messy-haired wizard came rushing into the Gryffindor's Common Room. He sought out for his long haired best friend - whom he had not met because of his detention for setting stupid and weak Snivellus on fire, made his way across the room before he unceremoniously dropped into the vacant seat at the study area.

"What's the excitement, Prongs?" the long, curly-haired boy asked as he lifted an eyebrow while he returned his quill into the bottle of ink and observed his perspiring friend, "You look like you just ran a mile."

"That's because I did!" Prongs answered indignantly as he pulled his bag onto his lap. Patting the top of his bag almost too affectionately, he dropped his voice into a whisper and smiled slyly, "I've a secret, Padfoot. A _glorious _secret."

"Well, spill it then," Padfoot urged as he waved impatiently and turned his body to fully look at the bespectacled boy.

Glancing furtively around him, Prongs smiled widely at his curious friend before he unzipped his bag as slowly as possible. Then, he slipped his hand into the bag and very gingerly, pulled out a small cream coloured item.

Snatching it away, Padfoot ignored the harsh soft admonishments from his best friend who warned him to treat it gently. Padfoot put the item on the table, spread it and prodded it. No matter what he did, no matter how he looked at it, there was no denying it. It was a cream coloured - very silky, admittedly - underwear. "This…" Padfoot asked a little incredulously at his smirking friend who looked strangely proud of his secret, "this… _thing _is your secret?"

"Yes!"

"It's a woman's underwear, James," Padfoot deadpanned as he held the clothing mockingly in front of the grinning boy, "You're into cross-"

"Don't be an idiot, Sirius!" James huffed irritably as he snatched the cream panties away, turned it around before he spread it on the table in front of him. Pulling on Sirius' ear, he dragged the boy towards the clothing so that they were looking at the same thing. "See here, the name is L Evans," James smirked as he pointed at the name written on hemline of the clothing, "and how many Evans do we know?"

"1..?" Sirius mulled aloud before the realization set in and he shared the triumphant smirk on James' face. "Oh, James, my man!" he cheered as he playfully punched James's shoulder, "How did you do it? I mean, how did you get Lily's p-"

"My what, Mr Black?" A voice asked sweetly but there was no mistaking the venomous tone underlying it. The boys slowly turned to stare at the girl with auburn hair and bright emerald eyes that glowered at them with restrained fury.

"Oh hey, Lily!" James spluttered as he smiled lopsidedly at his fellow house and waved limply at her, "Your… your eyes are great!" He gulped nervously as he tried to glance at his best friend from the corner of his eye. Merlin, he hoped Sirius would not sell him and they escape her wrath his trophy. After all, was he not blessed by the Gods with this trophy that he had found folded neatly in his bag? It was fated! The Gods loved him and blessed him by answering his wish! It was therefore, his right to keep his bountiful bles-

"Why, Lily, darling. Tell me, when did James get together with you?" Sirius asked with a wide charming smile as he looked from the uncomfortable, fidgety boy to the furious girl. Truly, he did not understand her obvious fury nor James' nervousness. After all, what was there to be embarrassed about? It had been rumoured and even bets had been placed on them doing the deed - everyone just needed the proof that it was real.

"Excuse me?" Lily asked as her voice went a little high pitched, "Do you want to repeat that, Mr Black?" She folded her arms across her chest and turned her attention from Potter to Black.

"You and James together," Sirius repeated as he frowned at the angry girl. Turning swiftly, without taking his eyes away from her - he did not trust her not to hex him with his back to her - he held the cream coloured panties in front of her. Despite his nervousness, he smiled as he challenged her, "Why else would this be in his bag?"

For a moment, Sirius observed with fascination as the pretty girl's face turned from red to pale. Mortification shined in her green eyes before they vanished and the unquenchable rage returned with immense hatred that together burnt brightly in her eyes. Swiftly, she snatched the clothing out of his hand, shoved it into her robes before she glared hatefully at them. Sirius stared mutely at her as his jaw slackened and he pulled a daring quick glance at his best friend who looked a mixture of terrified and grief-stricken. Could it be he was wrong?

"Hey...Prongs?" Sirius whispered hoarsely as he fixed his eyes on the scary girl in front of him, "Did you...steal it?"

"N-no, I…" James was about to answer but a scream slipped between his lips as angry red rashes appeared over his skin. Before he could begin to scratch himself, his body scrambled away. Dazzling bolts of lights continued chasing and hitting his retreating back, and transforming him into various small animals as he scampered over the chairs and tables. Ever so often, he would knock over ink bottles and leaving an ink trail of various animal foot prints over parchments.

Sirius stared at the debacle before he tried to stealthily climb the stairs to the boys' dormitory. He was halfway up the stairs when a sandy-haired boy obstructed his way.

"What's going on with Lily and James?" the blonde asked loudly as he peered over Sirius' shoulder to observe the chaos, "Did James provoke her again?"

"Lower your voice, Moony!" Sirius hissed as he pushed against the lycan who seemed insistent to stand his ground, "Let's go back to the dorm and I'll tell you."

"Why can't you say it here?" Moony asked curiously in a softer voice as he tilted his head and blinked a few times.

Sirius huffed and surrendered. He jerked his chin over his shoulder towards the angry witch and sighed despondently when Remus continued to look puzzled and confused. It was not like the werewolf to be so thick-headed and obtuse - he expected that from Wormtail - but perhaps, today was Remus' slow day and truly, he did not have the luxury to ponder that when his life was at stake.

Breathing deeply, Sirius mustered his most woeful and kicked-puppy look as he peered up at his friend. As the seconds passed, Sirius shuddered when he noticed the small gleeful smile that curled at the corner of Remus' lips. He watched in muted horror as Remus called out loudly and mercilessly, "Oh hey, Sirius! Where are you going?"

"Sirius Black," the witch hissed as she slowly turned and made her way towards the ill-looking boy. Tapping her wand gently on her hand, she looked down at him vengefully. "Give me a good reason why you shouldn't be like your best friend."

"I'm innocent?" Sirius answered weakly as he looked up at her sheepishly.

"What do you think, Remus?"

"What did they do, Lily?" Remus asked as he glanced at the pitiful looking boy at his feet.

"They stole my…" she started before her cheeks flushed brightly and she averted her eyes from the calm prefect. "They stole my things!" she said hastily as she glared at Sirius who seemed to shrink a little more, "Private personal things!"

Remus hummed as he looked down at his pitiful looking housemate before he smiled a little too sympathetically to be considered genuine. "I see," he answered and nodded in understanding when he returned his attention to her, "In that case, they are guilty."

Without hesitation, Lily hexed the black haired boy who yelped and leaped off the stairs. Unrelenting and angry, she chased him and continued hexing him while Remus remained in his spot as he observed them with a satisfied smile.

Finally, after Lily had calmed down, Remus came up behind her and they stared at Sirius who looked to be in the same poor state as the unconscious James. "You have poor choices of friends, Remus," she commented as she turned away to return to the girls' dormitory.

"On behalf of my poor mannered friends, my deep apologies to you, Lily," he apologized gallantly to her retreating back before he squatted in front of his friends.

"Moony, you set me to die…" Sirius whined accusingly and petulantly as he scratched himself, "you're the poor friend."

"Yes well," Remus agreed as he smiled toothily, "it's only fair after you and James got me into trouble with Professor McGonagall on Valentine's Day."

Sirius blinked as he stared at the grinning werewolf and recalled the previous month. It was a prank that he and Prongs had planned since Moony confessed that he admired their professor. The night before Valentine's Day, they had drugged the lycan. They stripped him, wrapped him in a red robe and a neat ribbon, and left him in the Transfiguration class with note: _A present to my loveliest and dearest professor. With love, Remus._ Their prank had resulted in massive house-points deduction as well as Remus' detention for days on end for his supposedly unsavory actions.

"This was your-"

"Doing? Yes," Remus laughed as he returned to the boys' dormitory, "enjoy the payback. You should check in with Madame Pomfrey for those rashes."

Sirius stared and chuckled at the lycan's back. Well, turn about is fair pla- Did that mean Moony stole the panties and framed Prongs? Moony. Stole. Panties. Oh, it was always going to be the quietest ones.

* * *

Please leave a review. Thanks!

P.s. DMBM is still being reworked.


	2. Round 2

A/N: This is the second one-shot. My thanks goes to Roseusvortex and Blitz for beta-ing!

Prompt Scenario: Write about a character(s) that goes overboard to satiate their exquisite tastes OR write about a character(s) who is so obsessed with 'establishing balance' in life that they forget to live in the moment.

Prompt: Crimson (colour)

* * *

Fenrir Greyback was never a subscriber of fate. It was not that he did not enjoy the mystery that surrounded a divine power that transcended the wildest imagination; but he absolutely hated the resignation that usually came with it. He would not bemoan his difference - he was not a child - but that did not mean he acknowledged it as a blessing.

For the longest time, he wondered if he was bestowed with a gift or a curse. After all, he knew, especially as a child, that he was far too different from the kids around the orphanage. It was not just because those couples would take a look at him, shudder and reject him or because he was kept in an isolated room at the back of the house with only air vents for windows. It was the fact that he was only allowed out of his room for meals and when the sun was blazing among the clouds - not a minute before sunrise, and not a second after sunset. Sometimes, he wondered while he was imprisoned in his room if the moon and stars would look like the pictures in the storybooks or if they were myths imagined by adults to trick little children.

His life took a turn, one fine day, when he was aged eleven or was it twelve? It was a hot night, he remembered that very well, and he was having dinner in the dining room. He was sitting at the corner of the table, just staring and watching his fellow orphans laughing merrily while they chomped on dinner and squabbled for an extra piece of bread. Everything was well and routine until a foreign scent assaulted his nostrils. It was an alluring scent and he closed his eyes to fully immerse himself in it. His fingers had reached around the back of his head and crimson sticky liquid coated his fingers by the time he opened his eyes to observe his fingers. He brought his fingers to his nose, took a powerful sniff that nearly left him almost incapacitated. For the first time, he had found something he loved com-

"Hairy Chewbacca! Chewy chewy!"

"Monkey! Animal!"

They were chanting all around him, pouring cold water on him and they threw utensils, chicken bones and everything their little fists could grab; and it was angering him. No, he was a lot less bothered about what they called him or what they did to him; he was very irritated that the enticing fragrance was quickly disappearing under the waves of cold water. They were nullifying the aroma. They had no right to deny him!

_He would punish them. _

He could not remember what happened next. There was a joyous laughter howling so darkly and cruelly amidst the helpless wailings and cries. It went on for a while until silence suddenly took over. The poignant scent had returned and completely filled his lungs, and a taste so deliciously metallic was crudely savoured in his mouth. Everywhere he looked, it was a magnificent sight. He was covered in a crimson cloak and, standing in the center of a beautifully devastating stage. This was euphoria. This was his heaven, he was sure. He would never allow anyone to take it away from him.

* * *

It was a few years later, when he was aged fifteen that he was finally adopted by an old couple but he had never forgotten his preferences. There was not a sight, not a taste and certainly not a scent more seductive than that. He would recreate it, he had to and oh, he tried so hard. He killed the chickens. He killed the cows. He killed every animal on the farm but it was for naught. The animals tasted different, they smelled different. There was no euphoria in killing them. They was no joy surging through him. There was no thundering in his ears and even his heart was too peaceful.

That was the first time he catalogued the feeling as sadness. He had mourned his misfortune. He had endeavored but it was for nothing. He could not recreate the heavenly feast for his soul.

_Humans. Kill them. _

That voice coaxed him, and guided him like a compass. He entered the bedroom, loomed over his parents and shook them roughly until their eyes stared at him clearly. Suddenly, a subtle poignant whiff flittered delicately across his nose and… _he smiled_. He loved that smell too; a strong second to the heavenly smell of that sticky crimson liquid.

_The pheromones of fear. _

He lifted his father, shook him as easily as a terrier would wring a small piece of cloth until a sound echoed in the room. A broken neck like cracking an egg, and what a glorious subtle music! He had discarded his limp father to the side and turned his attentions to his old mother who was screaming while she ran away. The foolish, silly woman. She should have locked the doors at night. He shook his head and closed his eyes. With his nose sniffing the still air, he chased after her blindly. As he followed her, a low rumbling echoed in his ears and his heart began beating just a little harder. He was elated. This was what he was searching for. He would savour it all.

It did not take long. In fact, it was over far too soon and he howled in anger. He was cheated. He was made a fool. She had not tasted nor smelled like them. There was something lacking.

_Vigour. _

* * *

Many years had passed since he butchered his parents, and on some nights he would think of them. He did not regret their deaths; they had to die for him. Their deaths were part of his journey to recreate the heaven and he was thankful for their desires to be part of his grand scheme.

"Time for dinner, pup."

He looked up into golden eyes and followed the old man and the other snickering adults. This was his new family. They, like him, enjoyed hunting but unlike him, they hunted as a pack. The old man preached and babbled for days on ends about camaraderie and togetherness that to him, sounded like drivels that came out of buttholes.

He shook his head as he looked at them hunching behind bushes and trees like perverted Toms peeping on little girls. Everyone seemed to be waiting for the most important guest to appear, and the little round thing took its sweet time to appear from behind the clouds like a bashful girl stumbling out of a fitting room. The first howl did not take long after that, and they leapt out of their hiding. Immediately, the sensations he had been chasing after surged through his pores and he relished in the music of whines and cries, and ripped limbs and broken joints. It could have been an absolute delight; only if it was perfect. Only if they contained magical essence.

_Tease. _

He was cheated again. He was made a fool again. He was snarling. He was crying until the sun rose, he remembered. He was still cursing his luck even as they cuffed his hands and pulled him, and carted him off to a fancy place. The blood on his hands and in his mouth did not smell and taste like heaven; it was only an imitation of it. How dare they mocked his heaven! They would pay. They would pay so dearly. All of them who colluded together to deceive him would feel his wrath.

"He is a lycan! I see the signs!"

"No, he's not. He's just a muggle father mourning his child's death."

"Then, there should be no problem keeping him here until tomorrow night. It'll still be a full moon night."

"Lupin, I don't doubt your expertise in identifying dark creatures but we cannot afford to spare efforts on a potential lycan when we are short staffed in aurors fighting against You-Know-Who."

"He is a we-"

"He is a grieving father! Surely you can relate to that?"

"You don't understand! He is a lycan! A werewolf! _Dangerous. Heartless. Insane. Death is their only mercy_!"

"Enough, Lupin! This court does not tolerate accusations! Leave the court if you cannot manage a cool head! The court has adjourned."

Fenrir looked at the accusing finger and then into a fanatic and flushed face. Sandy brown hair. Furious, wild, brown eyes. Fenrir's gaze dropped a little as he stared at the name printed in golden letters. Lyall Lupin. Was it his fault he was born a lycan? Was it his fault he wanted to recreate his heaven? Why should he be denied his heaven? Who made Lyall Lupin God? Nobody would deny him his heaven. How dare the man think himself befitting to sanction such an order! He would make absolutely certain that the deluded man learnt his place in the food chain - lycans would always be above men. He was above a foolish Lyall Lupin.

* * *

It took him a month after he left that fancy chamber to hunt down a particular family. Lupin. For a few weeks after he found them, he had watched the woman leave her house every morning and enter it every afternoon. Always with a little boy. He had watched them for days on ends. They should be honored, very privileged; very rarely in his life, had he ever given someone his undivided attention for more than a minute.

Each day, as he bided his time, his lips would curl just a little more and eventually showcased an unusually sharp pair of canines. Each day, he fidgeted and shivered more and more from excitement as the delicious pheromones of fear assaulted him from all directions. He knew that she knew that he was watching her. He also knew that she knew that he knew that she was afraid. It would explain the furtive glances she kept throwing over her shoulders, and the way she kept a tighter hold on her son almost stopping the blood from circulating in his hand. The way she kept going to the windows, checking their locks and the way she harried to the doors and installing more and more locks.

Oh, he found her antics a little too adorable. Did she truly think locked wooden doors and glass windows would stop him? They would be nothing more than mere irritants. He shook his head as he slowly rose to his feet and made his way towards the house with a red roof. Tonight was the night. Tonight, he could feel it. He could smell it. Tonight, he would recreate his heaven.

_Lyall, you'll be sorry._

* * *

The stench of blood filled the air. As Lyall Lupin cautiously turned the knob and pushed open the door of his house. Immediately, his breath was caught in his throat as he stared at the carnage before him. Blood was splattered across the walls, furnitures were devastated and huge red beastly footprints dirtied the floor. Dead bodies of his neighbours were discarded on the floor like ragdolls and their limbs flung far away. Lyall shuddered as he spied the kitchen and his heart dropped. The backdoor was thoroughly smashed through by a beast.

_Werewolf. Dangerous. Insane._

He swallowed the bile in his throat and climbed the creaking blood stairs. As he walked along the corridor of the second floor, the sound of crunching glass echoed ghastly in his ears. The bedroom doors were unhinged and smashed, door knobs were missing, windows were thoroughly shattered. Every room was devastated except for the room at the end of the corridor.

The door was whole, and left just slightly ajar. Lyall stared at the bloody door knob and slowly pushed open the door with his shoe. It was the only room that was not lit and he cast Lumos softly as he scanned the room. It looked as if nothing was touched until he lifted his wand to the farwall and he stared slack jaw. His wife was huddling and cradling a still bundle tightly to her bosom. He rushed forward, held her and spied at the face under the blanket. His son… was still alive.

A huge sigh of relief escaped his breath as he pulled his family closer to him. His wife was alive too. His family, his everything was alive. Thank Merlin.

Just as he was helping his wife to leave their son's bedroom, his eyes stared at the ominous message written in blood on the wall beside the door. Lyall's knees buckled as he crumpled to the floor and shot a patronus for assistance. He knew for certain that this was not the end of the werewolf's wrath - it had only just begun.

_Hello, Remus Lupin._

_How does blood smell? How does it taste? Exquisite, isn't it?_

_Savour it, remember it, my little pup. Your sire has brought a piece of heaven to you._

_Now, seek me and meet your brethren; together, we shall turn the world into a glorious bloody Eden._

* * *

Please review. Thanks.


	3. Round 3

A/N: Third one-shot of the series, and massive thanks to Blitz and octocelot for beta-ing.

As there is no concrete information about Andromeda Black, Corban Yaxley and Antonin Dolohov, I have written them to be of the same age and graduating from Hogwarts at the same time.

Prompt scenario: Write about a character that breaks a familial or societal tradition.

Prompt: Beach (setting), Lapis Lazuli (colour)

Warning: I've never actually attempted to write Andromeda Black, so she might come off as OOC.

* * *

1998: Day before the Battle of Hogwarts

Alone on the silent beach, Andromeda sat on the damp sand. The wetness of the sand was seeping through her dress and she hugged her knees close to her chest as she continued watching the majesty before her. The fiery medallion burnt the sky in furious shades of red, orange and yellow as it slowly descended into the dark waters. Its rays raced swiftly and steadily across the endless water, lighting the sea's surface into cylinders of flax vermilion light.

She choked a bitter laugh as she stared at the glistening sea that reminded her of a pair of beautiful eyes the shade of lapis lazuli. Once upon a time, this was her—_their_—vision of peace and contentment. They would spend their afternoons, while Dolohov was away at one of his extra classes, just sitting on the shore of Hogwarts' beach and staring at the open sea. Those were comfortable silences, and she had always felt safe and secure in his company. Away from the watchful eyes of the public, she could abandon her regal posture and know with absolute certainty that he would never tell a soul about her undignified actions and curse words. She knew because there was never a word flying around school about her during their seven years in Hogwarts and the years after that.

It was the accumulation of these moments that she thought she had been certain that she could never be left wanting if she could spend every waking and sleeping hour with him. She thought she had been sure he was everything she wanted and she was certain her family would approve. After all, Corban Yaxley was a pure-blood heir who hailed from one of the sacred twenty-eight families, and by the time they graduated from Hogwarts, he had been widely recognized as a gifted physician with an unmatched talent in Herbology and magical creatures handling. He was one of the most sought after bachelors, and one of the most coveted wizards who had attracted the attentions of even the Dark Lord. In short, he was definitely the perfect son-in-law to Cygnus Black and Druella Black, and it would have been a perfect story... if only, it had happened.

Twenty-six years ago, before her baby was born, she had committed the greatest sin a pure-blood could ever do. For years, there was not a wizard or witch in their community who would consider doing what she did. It was unimaginable, never mind unheard of. Her selfishness caused an outcry in the community, and her family was slandered and besmirched even after they had publicly declared their severed ties with her. Her family's reputation suffered for a few days until he came forward. Corban had made a public announcement that it was his _weakness_ that had led to her absence on their wedding day, for who could marry an impotent man? After his declaration, she remembered reading the papers and every reporter had mercilessly shredded his reputation until it was beyond repair while they sought forgiveness from her family. She had wondered why he had willingly sacrificed his reputation for a family that he owed nothing to, and instead were indebted to.

_A man in love would do everything he can for the one who has stolen his heart._

The words uttered by Dolohov echoed in her ears as Andromeda rested her head on her knees. She wept, loud and powerful shuddering sobs. Her body shook and her throat ached painfully, its intensity unwilling to lessen. Suddenly, a heavy coat fell onto her shoulders and an arm circled around her shoulders until her head was resting against a chest. With a hand stroking her hair, a steady heartbeat under her ear, and a scent—that she had not smelled in the longest time but it was a comforting and familiar smell—filling her nose, Andromeda found herself relaxing and her sobs softened into sniffles. Quietly, she withdrew from the embrace and found herself staring into familiar eyes.

"Corban…" she breathed as she continued staring in wonder at the silent man who dabbed her cheeks with a handkerchief.

"You've always been a loud crier," he chuckled lightly as his eyes twinkled softly. "Did you ask me to see you to be reminded of that?" Andromeda marveled at the tenderness that filled his eyes. How could he continue smiling kindly as if she was not the reason for his ruined reputation? How could he would look at her so gently as if she was deserving of affection even after what she had done? What had she done to deserve his kindness? He should not be kind to her when she had torn his heart asunder those many years ago. She had betrayed him.

"Are you thinking of twenty-six years ago?" he asked softly. It was just like him to know exactly what she was thinking. He had always had that ability. She could never hide anything from him—he saw her for who she was. Always.

Andromeda nodded mutely and slowly.

"Me too, Miss Bla- Madam Tonks," he whispered a little hoarsely as he stumbled over her address while he took one of her trembling hands and forced the fist open, "I've never stopped thinking-"

Andromeda watched his face change from tenderness to surprise to melancholy. Whatever he saw in her palm, it had caused him to lose his train of thoughts. Careful not to startle him, she leaned forward to spy at her palm without actually pulling it out of his hand. It took her the time-span of a heartbeat to realize the reason for his sudden state. There, in the center of her palm, was the small silver band she had been given.

"Where did you get it?" he asked harshly without looking at her.

"Dolohov gave it to me for safekeeping," Andromeda replied defensively as she swiftly pulled her hand out of his grasp and clasped the fist close to her chest. For some unknown reasons, she had felt a trickle of fear. For a sliver of a moment, she had been afraid that he would steal the ring with the most beautiful stone. Dolohov had given her the ring on the day she fled from the wedding. It was an exchange of sorts that was tied by the Unbreakable Vow - she would safeguard it until the day that the owner would come to retrieve it, and he would help her elope with Edward Tonks safely and out of her family's reach. Dolohov had delivered his trade and she had continued endeavoring in keeping the beautiful ring safe.

"Safekeeping?" he sneered as he glared at her, yet it was not hatred or anger that she saw bubbling beneath his sapphire-colored eyes. Instead, whirlpools of misery and devastation swirled behind those blue eyes and Andromeda choked on a gasp as if she was slapped painfully across her. Those blue eyes that were staring at her in a mixture of disbelief and agony were the same eyes that stared at her the day she rejected his proposal. He had implored her to reconsider but she was not moved.

"It was for my wife!" he hissed as he turned away disgusted and walked a few steps away from her.

Andromeda reopened her fist to stare at the glistening ring. The stone was twinkling and how it reminded her of Yaxley's bright blue eyes. How could she not have realized it all this time? She should have remembered Dolohov was never a frivolous man—he did everything for a reason. Dolohov must have known…

Slowly, she stood up on trembling legs and carefully approached the blond-haired wizard. She stared at his side profile and stretched out her hand, open-palmed. She saw his eyes glance at the ring before they returned their attention onto the horizon. She sighed as she dropped her hand and held the ring between her thumb and index finger. "I didn't know," she began lamely as she stared at the bronze-colored sand beneath her feet, "Dolohov… He didn't say anything when he pa-"

Suddenly, a cold breeze swept by and Andromeda closed her eyes to sneeze. When she reopened her eyes to look at him and continue her train of thoughts, he was missing from his spot. Confused, she turned to look for him only to feel the heavy coat on her shoulders again. She looked up at him in surprise.

"You've never handled the cold well," he deadpanned as he adjusted his coat carefully on her shoulders. "Do not expect more than this. I am not a gentleman."

"I've never thought that."

"Never?" he echoed softly and bitterly. Andromeda saw herself in his eyes and she shivered at the intensity of feelings she saw in them. Corban Yaxley, as she remembered him, was never a man who revealed and spoke his feelings aloud but his eyes were truly the windows to his heart and soul. His eyes were always expressive, and they were never afraid to reveal his true emotions.

"Do you remember what you said when you rejected me?" he asked in harsh breaths as his face came closer. "When you chose a… when you chose Edward over me?"

Andromeda gulped and turned her head away. How could he ask her that? Of course, she remembered everything that happened in her father's study. She had remembered his agony and his heartbreak, and her cruelty. He had stared at her in silent agony and regret, before he nodded and swiftly excused himself. He had left her father's study and ignored her parents when they asked him to calm down while they tried to talk sense to her. It was the last time she saw him and how terrible that that was the last memory she had of his mesmerizing blue eyes, before today.

"Corban, I'm sor-"

"No, I'm sorry. I can't love you anymore," he interrupted her as he took the ring from her fingers and walked away. "There's only so much pain and betrayal a heart can endure." Almost as if he suddenly remembered the reason for his visit, he stopped mid-step and looked over his shoulder. He spoke softly and lowly, almost as if it hurt him to speak, "I do not possess the heart to feel compassion for my enemies. Warn your daughter and her husband that they should expect no mercy from me tomorrow. I am a Death Eater and they are members of The Order. We are enemies, and so, one of us must fall or the war shall not end."

This time, he continued walking and Andromeda watched his back quietly. When his back disappeared from her sight, her knees buckled and she fell on all fours. Tears slid down her cheeks as her mournful wails echoed on the quiet beach. Corban Yaxley. He was her closest friend, her confidante. He had always been there for her. Whenever she fell, she knew for certain he would be the first to reach her side and help her up. Whenever she needed a shoulder to cry on because her parents had compared her to her sisters, it was his shoulder she would lean on. Whenever she needed a listening ear, his ears had always been the pair that listened. Whenever someone insulted her, it was his arms that hugged her and with his quick wit, he would always defend her honor. As the memories of her childhood with him continued playing, the memory of his proposal resurfaced and against her wishes, it replayed loudly in her ears.

_"Andromeda, Miss Black, would you do me the honor? Would you grant me the greatest privilege of loving you for the rest of our lives?"_

_"I cannot."_

_"Do not jest. I cannot be-"_

_"I am not laughing, am I?"_

_"Why..?"_

_"My heart has gone."_

_"Is it... __Edward Tonks?"_

_"Ye__s."_

_"Do you know what you're saying? Do you plan on abandoning your family's expectations? He is everything your family disapproves of! He's a muggle-born and a common clergyman!"_

_"What does it matter? He loves me!"_

_"I love you too! Tell me, what's so terribly lacking about me that you would choose him? My rank and birth are superior to his! He was born from a muggle woman! Don't you realize that you're choosing a man far beneath me, and someone unworthy of you and your bloodline? Woman, have you lost your mind? Do you intend to mock all pure-bloods by rejecting me and marrying him? Your family will be ridiculed, as will you! Don't you ever think of repercussions?"_

_"How dare you! I choose the gentleman who loves me most, and you, Corban, are not him! You do not love me! You, like the many other pure-bloods, adore me not for me but for what my blood means! That is not love! You think I'm crazy but what manner of gentleman would speak to a lady the way you do? You're rude and uncouth, and you'll never be half the man Edward is! If I must flee to marry him, then Merlin help me, I will do it! Damn you, Corban Yaxley!"_

_"Is that what you think of me? Very well, I appreciate your honesty. I wish you eternal happiness with him, who is so lucky to be chosen by you. I hope he loves you in more ways than I could."_

_"Corban, I -"_

_"I bid you adieu, Miss Black."_

It was too late. If only, she had realized his affections for her had been genuine, and had nothing to do with her bloodline, her life might have played out differently. She would not have been disowned by her family. She would not have lived a life of monotony with Edward. She would still have him by her side. Andromeda screamed as regret washed over her like the gentle waves rolling onto the sand beside her. It was a slow torture, and she wondered if the twenty-six years had been this painful for him. Oh, how she wished she could turn the clock and retract the words she had said. She would swallow her pride, and beg for his forgiveness in a heartbeat. How awfully wrong she was in her assessment of his character. He was a man scorned and yet, he was still gentle and kind to her. She had misjudged him terribly, and her poor judgement was a reflection of her insecurities and demons, rather than a reflection of him. If only, she had acknowledged that he had worked hard to be worthy of her, instead of being so self-absorbed that she could only see his flaws. In her presumed entitlement, she had been so arrogant to believe that he would always be there for her, that she had not bothered to care and love him as he did her. Truly, he was the never problem. She was the one who failed their friendship. She failed him, and herself.

_She gambled and lost everything. He, not she, was the one that got away._

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Please review, thanks!


	4. Round 5

A/N: Thanks to Blitz for beta-ing this.

Important notice: This is AU of my main fic: Doubt me, Believe me but it can be read without reading the main fic. This can also be considered to be prequel of the previous chapter.

Prompt scenario: Write a story about a character meeting his/her doppelganger from another universe.  
Extra prompt: (Dialogue) "Love is one long sweet dream... and marriage is the alarm clock."

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1985, September 1

Corban Yaxley had never believed himself to be special even when the world fawned over his prodigious talents in herbology, alchemy and magizoology. He never believed, even for an instance, that he should be given extra privileges simply for being the heir of a pure-blood family and a seated member on the supposedly prestigious Wizengamot. It was not his lack of self-esteem that led him to this but rather, the self-awareness of what he lacked.

For all his brilliance and talents, he was as feeble as any man. Like a common muggle Joe, he was defenceless and helpless against Cupid's arrows. It was highly unlikely that he would ever spot the exact moment he loved her because, like every man in love, he was in too deep before he realized his affections for her. And, like every other man who loved a woman, he simply could not _unlove _her at the drop of a hat. _It was impossible_, and that was why he stood very stiffly behind a pillar on the platform nine and three-quarters of King's Cross station since the dawn of September 1.

Yaxley peeked around the pillar as he waited to spot a beautiful face framed by long, dark-chestnut-coloured, curly, hair. He knew that today would be a special day for her and everyone in her little family of three. Her daughter was finally ready for Hogwarts and Yaxley had hoped to catch a glimpse of the woman he still loved and the girl whom he would protect and care for as if she were his. He was sure anyone who knew his secret desires would think he was creepy and desperate, and lacked self-respect but in all honesty, he could not find it in him to be bothered about their opinions of him. Why should he care about the opinions that belonged to people who did not matter to him? It was ludicrous and tiring if he were to attempt to conform and please them, and Yaxley was anything but conventional.

As the time neared the eleventh hour, the crowd on the platform began thinning and so was Yaxley's hope of catching glimpses of her. Before he could fully register what he was seeing, the corners of his lips had already curled up. Wavy brown hair rested over one shoulder. Perfect red lips smiled and kissed an adorable girl's forehead. As he openly appreciated her beauty, he began noticing a glaring problem. It was just she and her daughter on her daughter's supposedly first day of boarding school! Where was the useless muggleborn? For reasons known only to him, Yaxley was seething and he had even withdrawn his wand. Swiftly, he turned away from the scene and allowed his rage to guide him. How could Tonks not accompany them? Did the man think his wife and daughter would be safe without an escort? Did the muggleborn think them unworthy of his time away from… _a mere clergyman's_ _duty__?_

Yaxley was marching out of King's Cross Station when he was roughly shoved aside. He stopped to glare at the back of a suited and hatted man who was striding swiftly. As his fury mounted, Yaxley began to chase after the rude man-this was a more irritating immediate problem. Tonks could wait. Yaxley was led north-west of the station until they arrived at St Pancras Old Church when the rude man suddenly stopped to sit on a nearby bench. Yaxley maintained a meter away from the empty seat on the bench as he continued glaring at the seemingly unaware man. "You owe me an apology," Yaxley growled at the man who had begun lighting a cigarette.

Without looking at Yaxley, the man took a deep inhale of the cigarette before he blew a trail of smoke gently. "Have a seat," the man invited as he sucked another breath. "I want to show you something but I want to talk first."

"The world doesn't revolve around you," Yaxley sneered. "Give me my apology and then, we can start negotiating."

The stranger sighed heavily and shook his head. He stared at the scene ahead of him and rubbed his face. Summoning the most apathetic voice, the man droned the laziest and most lacklustre one-word apology. Yaxley stared at the lazy and rude man before he shook his head in disbelief. How could there be someone as disgustingly lazy and dispirited as this…_weirdo_? Slowly, reluctantly, Yaxley descended onto the corner of the empty seat and spied on the rude weirdo from the corner of his eye.

"I saw you looking at her."

Yaxley blinked once and then twice, but he remained silent otherwise. Any more reaction would simply be admitting the truth. Even if he did not care for the opinions of others on his behaviour, it was not as if he was going to give them the satisfaction of catching him in the act. No, he will take his secret to his grave even if he had to lie.

"But that's okay."

"I've no idea what you're talking about," Yaxley sneered. Why the weirdo felt the need to _reassure _him was puzzling. They were strangers, yet Yaxley had to admit that his reassurance was _comforting_. It felt as if his unrequited affections was..._acceptable._

They sat in silence until the weirdo huffed and crushed whatever was remaining of his cigarette under his shoe. Without another word, he stood up and walked towards the church. Almost as if he _finally _noticed Yaxley had not followed him, he stopped in his track to turn and stare at Yaxley. Yaxley rolled his eyes, huffed tiredly before he stood up to catch up to the weirdo. Yaxley knew it was uncharacteristic of him to follow the weirdo, yet it felt _safe_. It felt… _right _to follow the weirdo. For whatever reason, his fight or flight instincts seemed to be non-responding. Whoever the weirdo was, he was just a rude weirdo. He was not an enemy and certainly not someone Yaxley's unconscious mind felt threatening.

They rounded the church until they reached the church's cemetery. Carefully, they meandered between the graves until the weirdo leaned his back against the back of a headstone. The weirdo had crossed his arms as he tilted his head to stare at the ground. "You know," the weirdo sighed resignedly. "Sometimes, I wished someone had told me. Love is one long sweet dream… and marriage is the alarm clock. My darling wife looked just like your woman. Beautiful. Exquisite. Perfect. Glorious brown hair, dazzling brown eyes, delicious red lips. Freckles, lots of them. I loved her, you know, even as she died. I miss her so much."

Yaxley stared at the weirdo whom he suddenly felt an emotional connection. This was also a man who had loved a woman so deeply but for whatever reason, he also suffered the pain of… _was it heartbreak_?

"What's her name?"

"This is her grave. Look at it yourself," the weirdo laughed like a broken man would.

Without another word, Yaxley went around to look at the name engraved on the stone. Suddenly, his heart beat a little harder as he read the name once, twice and a few more times. It was impossible. It had to be a cruel cosmic joke. With an almost parched throat, Yaxley asked carefully as his eyes continued staring at the name of the dead woman, "How did she die?"

"I killed her."

Yaxley's head whipped up and immediately he stumbled back. The face he was staring at was suddenly a face a little too familiar, and eyes that could not possibly be copied by metamorphmagus or even through the use of polyjuice. The pair of blue eyes with red hues was a result of the genetic inheritance unique only to the Yaxleys' bloodline. The weirdo… _was him_.

"How..? _Why?__"_

"How?" the weirdo echoed. "How and why did I kill her, you mean? I butchered her because she wanted to leave me for another man. I can't have that. I can't let her go. _She belongs to me. She's mine_. There was nothing I could do, so, I ate her. _Now, s__he will always be a part of me. I will always carry her with me. It is glorious!_"

Yaxley stared at the man in horror, and suddenly it dawned on Yaxley that whoever the man was, he was not a _harmless _man. The smile that he had thought initially to be sad, actually looked more vicious and cold than sad. Yaxley blinked his eyes a few more times as he stared at the face. Was his face capable of looking so gentle and harmless, and yet at the same time, promise a realm of vicious cruelty?

"Of course, Corban Yaxley," the man smiled a little wider. "You've simply chosen to forget who you are. You're trying to be a tragic Romeo but that's not who you are." He dug around his suit jacket and then pulled out a familiar looking thing. "Remember this?" the man mocked as he stroked it tenderly and almost too affectionately.

Yaxley stared at it and felt his insides clench. It was the mask-his Death Eater mask-he had worn during The Hunt Operation but he had locked it away because he had nearly killed her when she chose to stand in his way. After that, he had chosen to _quit _being a Death Eater. He could not bear the thought of killing her simply because they stood on opposite sides of the same war. He was terrified of the idea of being her murderer, and yet, this…_version _of him had killed his wife who had almost the same name. Andromeda Syrus.

"Who… what are you? Why…are you here?"

_Please do not say you are me. Please say we are different. _

"My name isn't important. You just need to know we are one and the same," the man smiled as he crouched to fix the mask on Yaxley's face. "We are killers. All of me… _all of you_. Don't you ever forget who you are, Corban Yaxley. You are the Lord of Durness, the Harbinger of Destruction, the Jester in the Dark Lord's Court. This is who you are. You're the villain of your own story. Death Eater is your role. You'll never be more than this."

Behind the mask, blue eyes watched the nameless man whose eyes twinkled and whose lips had curled gently into a serene and friendly smile. Slowly, the man began disappearing into wisps of smoke but his departing words whispered chillingly into Yaxley's ears, "Awaken from your childish dreams, Corban Yaxley. Not everyone is meant for happy endings. Be the man you're destined to be."

"In this life, in another life, you'll never be mine," Yaxley whispered behind the mask as his tears flowed easily. "If I am destined to be a killer, if it is written in the stars even in parallel worlds that I will never escape that fate, then do not blame me for killing."

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Please review, thanks.


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